Fixing Broken Strings
by Nothing-but-PBandJ
Summary: Warning: mentions of suicide attempt/ Mycroft is overly protective when it comes to Sherlock dating. But will John find out that he has a good reason why?
1. Chapter 1

He was not nervous. There was no reason to be. Sure, he was on his first 'official' date with his flat-mate and sure the dinner had been a silent one and sure, they planned on spending the night together for their first time but John Watson was not nervous.

Really. He wasn't.

The blond in jumpers snuck a glance at Sherlock while biting into his fork. He thought he was being very discreet but Sherlock sensed his gaze and caught his eye. John held his breath unconsciously for a moment before averting his gaze, pretending that he just found something very interesting to look at on the floor.

He couldn't tell for sure but he had a good feeling that Sherlock was on edge. The dark-haired man had confessed to him earlier that week that he had never slept with anyone before. John finished off the last of his chicken,wondering where the night was going to go.

They were home faster than expected. John realized that they had hardly spoken to each other at all since eight. They had lighthearted discussion at the dinning table beforehand but as the moment to leave came nearer, they both gradually became more quiet.

John had never been more anxious about sex. This was the first time he would do it with another man but that wasn't what bothered him. This was Sherlock. This was the man he loved. It wasn't that he wasn't eager to jump into bed with him. No he had fantasized about this moment for a long time. What made him nervous was that this first time was crucial and had to be perfect.

"John. If you don't want to do this-" Sherlock began but John hastily interrupted him.

"I do. I really want to. But if you don't-"

"No I do."

The two were seated on the couch that they had sat together on many times before. It was ironic that before John would be so relaxed sitting by Sherlock and watching the telly, with his arms resting on the back of the couch. Now, they were both a bit tense, staring straight ahead and not knowing what to do with their hands.

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. John almost gained enough courage to make the first move but Sherlock beat him to it. The detective placed a hand on John's cheek and gently pushed it so that he was looking at him. The two stared at each other intimately.

Then slowly, so very slowly, Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips onto John's. The connection felt so right that John responded quickly. Soon, their anxiety dissolved as they wrapped their arms around each other, pressing their bodies in an attempt to get as close as possible and continued to kiss passionately.

Sherlock toppled over on top of John. The smaller man laid on his back as Sherlock took advantage. Their bodies were heating up fast. Sherlock was just about to take off John's infernal clothes when the bell rang.

The two men stopped and stared at it like deer in headlights.

"Just ignore it," Sherlock whispered, his voice sounding almost desperate through a guise of tranquility.

John wanted to but the door bell kept on ringing repeatedly.

"It could be urgent."

Sherlock glared at the door.

"Or it could be-" he didn't finished but instead got off of John and practically stomped towards the offender.

John was surprised to see the person behind the door was none other than Mycroft.

Sherlock was about to close the door on his face but the older Holmes rushed inside. Sherlock bit his lip.

"Please come in, Mycroft. It's not like John and I were in the middle of something."

Mycroft frowned at him, then at John. John was surprised that he hadn't counter Sherlock's sarcastic statement with his own or smiled and brush it off. By the look Sherlock was giving him, it was safe to say that he was surprised too.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the floor once as a nervous habit.

"Dr. Watson."

John felt himself tensing up once more. Mycroft was here on a mission. He could tell from the hard way he said his name.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Watson. As happy as I am that you and my brother get along so swimmingly, I simply cannot allow this to go any further."

"How did you-"

"So I must insist that you and Sherlock cease your actions immediately and go back to your strictly platonic relationship."

Sherlock scowled but didn't look at all surprised. John, however, was flabbergasted. Mycroft continued to stare at John, waiting for the man's reply.

"It's time for you to leave, Mycroft."

The elder Holmes looked at his brother with a challenging gaze. He fiddled with his umbrella once more.

"Not just yet, brother dear. I need to tell John a few things."

Sherlock's expression softened, to one of pleading.

"Mycroft. Please don't-"

"John," Mycroft turned to the doctor again, "I have nothing against you. As a matter of fact, I probably would've approved of this match in a heartbeat if-"

"Mycroft. Leave!"

"If Victor hadn't happen."

Sherlock rushed off to his room so fast John could only see a blur going pass. He tried to call out but Sherlock yelled that he needed to be left alone. Stunned, John looked back at Mycroft, who frowned solemnly.

It took awhile for John to find his voice.

"Who's Victor?"

Mycroft took a seat, hinting that a long talk was soon to follow.

"Victor was in some ways like you, John. Only some ways though. Like you, Sherlock attached himself to Victor in a way that he doesn't normally do for other people. And like you, Sherlock fell in love with him."

There was a pause, as if Mycroft was having trouble figuring out what to say next.

"What happened to Victor?" asked John, unable to take the hesitation any longer.

"Sherlock confessed his feelings and Victor said he loved him too. But that was a lie. He didn't want Sherlock. He was using him. And I will never forgive him."

The elder Holmes' voice hardened to a dangerous level. John had never seen a deadlier look on him.

"After Sherlock found out, he was devastated. He...tried to kill himself."

The last part was spoken so softly but John heard it like it was a siren. The doctor felt his breath catch in his throat. He rose from his seat.

"You can't be serious! Sherlock-"

"Felt that no one loved him. He hated the world. He hated Victor. He hated me."

"Why would he hate you?"

Mycroft looked down sadly.

"Victor had a little crush on me. That's how he planned on using Sherlock. To get to me."

John's eyes widened slightly. He didn't care if standing seemed kind of awkward, he was getting too worked up to sit back down. Mycroft stood up as well.

"I know you are not like Victor and have good intentions. However, I cannot let him have another heartbreak. I don't want him back in the emergency room getting pills pumped out of him. So please John. End this before it begins. For Sherlock's sake."

Mycroft looked pleading but he also looked aggressive. John knew he wouldn't leave without getting the answer he wanted. John couldn't believe what he had heard. Sherlock trying to kill himself? He was used to Sherlock not eating and doing little to take care of himself but-

John suddenly glared, leaving Mycroft astounded.

"I don't know what I'd do if I ever met Victor. Nothing too good, I'm sure. But-" his expression softened enough to look at Mycroft, "But I love Sherlock more than anything. I will never break his heart."

Mycroft was miffed.

"You may not do so intentionally but there's a good chance you will do it. My brother is going to test your limits until you die. He's just that way. And there will come a time where you will feel the need to leave. And if you leave then, it will hurt him much more than if you leave now. So I'm begging you. If you love Sherlock as much as you say you do, then end this now."

Mycroft barely had time to finish his sentence when the sound of a violin echoed through the halls. It was a piece John had never heard before; sad and bitter. It pained him to hear it.

"I want to talk to Sherlock about this," John finally told Mycroft.

The elder Holmes looked very unhappy but stayed silent as John went up to Sherlock's room. He knocked on the door softly.

"Go away John," Sherlock's voice sounded broken.

John entered, saw Sherlock with his back turned on him and sighed. Sherlock always did look elegant when he was playing the violin. The movement reminded John of a cricket strumming its legs to attract a mate. The doctor closed the door to give the two of them the smallest bit of privacy from Mycroft.

"Listen Sherlock," but John was cut off by a sudden screech from the instrument.

The taller of the two turned around but didn't make eye contact. John never saw the man look more broken. In fact, he had the urge to hug him and whisper in his ear that everything was going to be alright.

But this was Sherlock he was dealing with. And so he should treat him like Sherlock.

"I know you didn't want your brother to tell me that. But I'm glad that he did. Do you know why?"

Sherlock didn't answer in his very typical lack-of-cooperation style. John smiled. So Sherlock. The light-haired man stepped closer.

"Because it's proof to exactly how much love you're capable of."

The dark-haired man bit his bottom lip and looked up at John shyly. Sherlock took a step forward.

"I don't want you to think I'm weak."

"Never have. Never will."

The both meet halfway and embraced each other. John resisted the urge to whisper that everything will be alright in Sherlock's ear. But he did whisper something.

"You're stuck with me. I'm not going to leave you."

The smile on Sherlock's face was so radiant, the sun itself would be envious. They pulled back to look at each other.

"Good. Now let's convince my brother that too."

John sighed. This was going to be hell.

* * *

><p>Small serious piece that's different from the crackish fics I usually like to write.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

John was wrong when he said that it would be hell. It was beyond hell. When the two came out and told the waiting elder brother that they were not breaking up, Mycroft grew silent. A very, very dangerous type of silent. His face paled and his eyes widened for just a split second.

He then told John, in a hard yet silent voice, that he was not afraid of how far he would go to protect Sherlock and that he had a way of making people disappear. Sherlock glared at him and said-

**Flashback**

"It's time for you to leave, Mycroft."

Mycroft shook his head.

"I'm worried about you and this is how you treat me? You remember Victor. I will not let that happen again, Sherlock."

"I'm not like Victor!" John exclaimed in defense.

John felt his whole body chill by a few degrees when Mycroft narrowed his eyes at him.

"I use to think that too. But seeing as how you've decided to put your own happiness first-"

"It's MY happiness too! Get OUT Mycroft or I'll force you out."

Sherlock's shouts echoed through the room. Following it was a silence so tense that it felt like the atmosphere could actually be cut with a knife. The only thing the three men would've heard was the ticking of the clock. Would have but they were too lost in focusing in on each other.

Finally, Mycroft smiled in a very unhappy way.

"I see you've made your decision. Well then, John," he turned to the doctor, "Please take good care of my brother."

He held out his hand, which John hesitantly took. They shook awkwardly and Mycroft's grip was hard enough to cut circulation but John didn't say anything about that. Once Mycroft was gone, John felt himself breathing a little bit easier.

"Why does he do things like this? Why can't he just leave me the hell alone?" Sherlock asked in a broken voice.

The detective choked back a sob and rushed to the nearest chair, bending his torso to his knees and placing his hands against his face to hide any unwanted tears. His entire body looked to be in a slump, as if it was trumped on by wild horses. John had never seen Sherlock so torn up. And he wished he never did.

He strode over and placed a reassuring hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He leaned into Sherlock's ear.

"Come on, love. You know he's just worried."

"He hasn't really given up. You know that," Sherlock stated with his hands still buried in his face.

John did know. When it came to protecting Sherlock, Mycroft was an unstoppable force. John thought it was very endearing to see how much the man cared for his brother, doing anything to stop any threat. But now that he considered John a threat, it was hard to think it the same way.

**Present**

John was idly typing away on his blog in a colorful bathrobe. His hair was matted and wet and his body was still heated from the shower that he took. Sherlock came up and stealthily planted a kiss on John's cheek. John grinned, looking up at him.

"G'morning to you too."

John's smile fell when he took a good look at Sherlock. The man was frowning deeply and his eyes showed that something was on his mind. The detective sat down on the other side of the table, making it easier for eye contact.

"I need to ask you something."

Sherlock was nervous, John could tell. The way the dark-haired man's shoulders were tense and his rigid breath told him plenty. John closed his laptop shut.

"What's wrong?"

The detective stared at him.

"I need to know, what you really thought. When my brother told you about my attempted suicide."

Sherlock strummed his finger onto the smooth, oak table. John frowned in thought.

"Well, I was worried."

"Were you surprised?"

"Yes."

"Why," Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, "Why were you surprised? Because you thought I was stronger? You lied to me when I asked you about that, didn't you? That I was weak."

He was now looking right at a stunned John. The doctor was too caught off-guard to say anything right away.

"What? No Sherlock. Of course, I didn't lie. I never thought you were weak. I have no reason to think that."

"Then why were you so surprised?" Sherlock demanded in a low tone.

John took a moment to think. And another moment. And another moment more. Finally the pause was too much for Sherlock. The taller man stood up and glared accusingly at John.

"I knew it. You did lie. You think I'm weak."

"Now just a minute!" John stood up as well, "You can't just go around making assumptions!"

"I don't make assumptions. I observe. And I know a lie when I hear it."

John was getting just as worked up as Sherlock.

"Do you? Well, of course. You're flawless in your deductions, aren't you? Hell would freeze over before you admit that you're wrong!"

"I don't have to be flawless to know when people lie!"

"You didn't know Victor was lying!"

John shouted it out before he could think better and keep his mouth shut. Sherlock stared at him, mouth agape, before his eyes narrowed.

"Maybe we should break up," he said so quietly that John had to strain to hear it.

x

Three hours later and Sherlock was still cooped up in his room. There wasn't even violin music so God only knew what the man was doing. John figured that enough was enough. He went inside without knocking. He wasn't quite sure if he should be surprised that the door was unlocked or not. Sherlock was lying on the bed, his body on top of the covers. He didn't acknowledge John coming up in the room. He just stared up at the ceiling. John searched for any nicotine patches but thankfully found none on Sherlock's bare arm. He sat down on the bed, adding weight to the mattress and rubbed his hands together nervously.

"What do you want?" Sherlock's voice was cold.

"I want to talk about what happened this morning."

"Nothing to talk about. Leave me alone."

"Do you really want to break up?"

"I don't...I don't know..."

Sherlock sat up cross-legged to look at the other man. They both sat in silence for awhile. At first it was an uncomfortable one but eventually both men found the quiet with each other to be almost pleasing. John offered a smile. Sherlock tried to return it but it ended up being a grimace. He looked away.

"John. I'm sorry. I don't want to break up. I just never wanted you to find out. I didn't want you to think I was some weeping little teenage girl who can't handle a heartbreak."

The doctor placed his hand on Sherlock's knee.

"I'm sorry too. Do you want to...tell me more about Victor?"

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He inhaled deeply before speaking.

"There was something about Victor that made me attach myself to him quicker than with other people. I don't know what it was. I'm usually distant because...because I can't handle people leaving me. So I don't let them get close."

It certainly made sense to John but Sherlock felt that he must've sounded ridiculous. There was another long pause and John waited very patiently for Sherlock to continue.

"When I befriended him, of course the first thing Mycroft did was confront him. It was sometime after that I confessed my feelings, and he said yes. But," Sherlock looked at the floor, "But he liked Mycroft. I brought him to my house to meet my family. I was gone just for a little while and when I came back..."

He trailed off when his eyes started becoming warm with moisture. No. No. He told himself he would not cry. He couldn't cry. That was weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.

"You don't have to go on," John whispered.

Sherlock shook his head. They've come too far already.

"He was trying to kiss Mycroft. Mycroft was upset and trying to push him still...still I was mad at Mycroft first. I blamed him and told him that Victor and I were leaving. But Victor said he didn't love me and he apologized for what he did. Apologized! He left my house without me like it was the easiest thing for him to do."

"What did Mycroft do after that?" John didn't bother to ask whether or not the elder Holmes did do something. The answer to that was obvious.

The taller of the two laughed bitterly. He actually had a genuine smile when he thought back.

"Information leaked out about Victor's drug use and he was kicked out of the uni. I don't know what happened to him after that but I'm sure he had to change his plans for his future."

Sherlock tentatively took a look at John. The doctor was now dressed in his favorite jumpers, his hair was combed neatly and he looked sexy. Sherlock would have him over Victor any day.

John was wondering how to breach the subject of the suicide attempt. But he didn't have to. Sherlock was already willing to let out the information.

"I was upset. So unbelievably upset. I hated everyone. Victor, Mycroft and especially myself. I felt like a damn fool. So when I was back at my dorm, the first thing I did was swallow a bottle of medicine. I can't even remember what the pills were, I just grabbed the first bottle I saw then chugged."

Whatever had become of Victor now, one thing was certain. John would make sure Mycroft's punishment would be nothing compared to what he would do if he ever saw the bastard.

"The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. I knew that before I even opened my eyes. The smell of it told me very clearly. Mycroft was sitting next to me. I knew that he was the one who saved me. And I hated him even more."

Well that was that. He told John everything. The blonde-haired man rubbed Sherlock's knee in a soothing motion. The bed creaked as Sherlock got out of it.

"You really don't think I'm weak?"

John got up as well. He strode over to get as close as he could to Sherlock. The two men embraced each other in a warm hug, smelling each others' intoxicating scent. Sherlock smelling of cigarettes and soap. John of cheap shampoo and honey.

"You deal with the most dangerous crimes constantly," John said, looking very deeply into Sherlock's eyes, "You. Are. Not. Weak."

And finally, finally Sherlock believed him. They both shared a small kiss.

x

John was walking home with a half gallon of milk in his hands when the car pulled up. He groaned, he can't say he hadn't been expecting this. The door opened and John was surprised there wasn't even that woman inside. He got in and let the driver take him to wherever Mycroft wanted him.

They pulled up at a park John had never been to. There were only a small number of people there and they were out of hearing shot. John got out, leaving his milk in the car and immediately saw Mycroft in his prim suit and umbrella.

"John."

"So, you want to talk?" John came up closer.

One corner of Mycroft's mouth twitched. John was surprised more people weren't here. It was relatively warm for a London morning that John felt he could take a nap under the cloudless sky.

"How's my brother?"

John put his hands in his pockets.

"He and I talked this morning about Victor."

Mycroft seemed interested but not surprised.

"Oh? And he told you about the suicide attempt too?"

John could tell by Mycroft's voice that an attack was waiting.

"Yes."

"Then tell me. If you know how prone my brother is to these sort of...actions, then why do you insist on risking it for your own pleasure?"

John groaned and wondered if he should have come here at all. As if he would have had a choice.

"I'm not going to leave him. And Sherlock is not weak. He can take care of himself."

"He's my responsibility," Mycroft hissed, "I'll decide whether or not he's capable of taking care of himself. And I don't think he can when it comes to romance."

"So what do you plan to do? Keep him chaperoned for the rest of his life? That's not respecting him very much, you know?"

Mycroft took a deliberate step forward.

"This is not about respect. This is about Sherlock's safety. There's still time for you to end this. If you don't, then I'll have to make you disappear. And believe me, no one wants that."

* * *

><p>TBC<p>

I'm experimenting with the uses of flashbacks. New chapter will hopefully be up soon. Time me!


	3. Chapter 3

The birds singing tunefully were a stark contrast from the raging, explosive thoughts going on inside John's head. How dare Mycroft threaten him? What was he going to do? Wasn't he thinking for a moment how Sherlock would feel, if John suddenly 'disappeared?'

The one question he did not need to ask himself was whether or not Mycroft was serious. The grim look on his face told him the answer to that already. Mycroft's stern gaze dared John to protest even in the slightest. And John took up on that challenge.

"You're making a mistake. I'm not going to leave him."

John didn't notice it but there were armed men and women alike surrounding the area and closing in. The armed men and women didn't notice it but someone had managed to sneak into the closing circle and was now making his way over quickly. Mycroft huffed, annoyed.

"I am begging you John. I do like you. Really, I do. And I would like for you to be around as a friend of Sherlock's. You've been the best thing for him in a very long time. But if you insist on trying to pursue a romantic relationship with him, then I will have no choice but to take drastic measures."

John took notice of the people stalking forward out of the corner of his eye. He took a step back when he realized that they had him surrounded. His eyes trailed back to Mycroft in a desperate attempt to gain his sympathy.

The men and women were armed but not yet holding their weapons in any threatening manner. The few people that were at the park earlier were somehow gone. Either this was a set up from the beginning or they were told to leave.

"Don't do this Mycroft. You're not going to help your brother this way."

"John. John. John," Mycroft 'tsk'ed, "I will not let anything else happen to him. He cannot handle a heartbreak like other people can."

"He's not weak!"

"I didn't say he was. But he is different and I am sensitive to that fact. Much more so than you are, let me tell you. I'm giving you one more chance, John. Call him right now and tell him you're ending it. Or you will be escorted out of London. Possibly out of the country."

"And do you really think that would work on me?" a voice asked.

John was startled, as well as the armed men and women. Mycroft, however, looked coolly at the new figure. He offered a polite smile.

"How are you today, brother dear?"

"Don't you 'brother dear' me," Sherlock snarled, his arms down at his sides but shaking in rage, "Did you actually think that if you had John call me to break it off, I would fall for it?"

"Sherlock, you know I don't hold you in such low regards as that. Of course I knew my influence on the matter would be obvious. But I wasn't trying to be sneaky. I was just hoping to get John to realize that-"

"That I'm a weakling."

Mycroft's smile fell. Even the birds must have felt the tension then because they had stopped singing. John rushed over to Sherlock's side and looked at Mycroft.

"I think it's best that we leave now."

This was starting to get out of hand, and John for one wanted to make sure the situation didn't get any uglier than it had to. But Mycroft was not nearly ready to give up.

"Both of you listen to me. I will take away John by force if I have to. Call it barbaric but at this point I don't care."

After he spoke the armed men and women began to walk closer. Sherlock placed his hand on John's shoulder and glared at anyone foolish enough to try to take him away. They were unfazed and continued to close the distance between them. Sherlock and John instinctively huddled together.

"Mycroft you can't do this."

Mycroft arched an eyebrow at his little brother.

"Can you stop me? I told you before that I am not going to risk you trying to take your life again."

Mycroft's employees were getting too close. Sherlock's eyes darted to the ground. Then they shot back up.

"And what if taking John away would have the opposite of the desired effect?"

"...Excuse me?" Mycroft's voice was quiet but rising dangerously. His eyes were wide in increasingly stronger rage.

"What if taking away John made me try to kill myself anyway?" Sherlock asked, "Then what would you do? You may try to stop me but it's impossible to keep protecting someone so determined to die. That's why you can't take him away from me."

The hand on John's shoulder squeezed possessively. Mycroft's employees stood their ground, waiting for their boss's next orders like trained bloodhounds waiting when to be told to run. Mycroft stared at his little brother in astonishment, clearly not believing what he was hearing. His jaw was slack and his mouth was just barely forming an o.

Then his face scrunched up in anger.

"Try it.," he snarled, "Try it. I've stop you before and I'll stop you again! But let me tell you right now if you do...If you do try to pull that goddamn stunt like you did before then you won't have a moment alone to yourself for the rest of your life! And that would be hell for you. Certainly you don't want to be locked up somewhere like...like a fairy-tale princess just because you can't deal with the rough moments in life!"

"So you do think I'm weak!"

Mycroft's face was red.

"Fine! You want me to say it so badly? I think you're weak! That's why I have you go on dangerous cases, isn't it? Because I think you're weak. It makes complete sense, my little genius brother."

"Don't insult me," and Sherlock turned to John, "We're going," back at Mycroft, "Try to stop us but we'll force our way out if we have to."

"There's no need for that," Mycroft informed softly, closing his eyes and calming down considerably, "Just tell me you're going to be fine and I'll let you leave. Tell me you aren't going to hurt yourself."

John took a moment to look at the elder Holmes. To really look at him. The man looked worn out to exhaustion.

"I promise I will be fine. Stop mothering me."

x

Sherlock gulped down his tea while slouching in his seat. John sat beside him but was actually taking the time to taste his tea. Sherlock placed his cup down and rubbed his temples.

John savored the earl grey flavor entering into his taste buds. He sighed, his muscles warm and relaxing.

"John. Do you want to..kiss?"

Did he ever. John smiled at Sherlock. The detective sounded so nervous, it was almost cute. No scratch that. It was cute. Lord only knows how Sherlock would react if he found out what John was thinking.

Sherlock took John's smile as encouragement and joined him on the couch. He felt his heart flutter. The last time they tried anything heated Mycroft had interrupted. John leaned in and planted a firm kiss on Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock deepened the kiss and soon the two were squeezing their bodies together, trying to get as close as humanely possible.

"Sherlock," John breathed between kisses.

Sherlock's long arms trailed down John's back in a soft caress. John took to digging his fingers into Sherlock's soft, curly hair, relishing in the feel of each individual black strand. Sherlock lied down and John got on top of him. John's tongue entered Sherlock's mouth tentatively, almost as if asking for permission to enter. The two were getting drunk off each others' scent, warmth and sweet, soft lips.

They went on for the rest of the night just kissing tenderly, which was enough for the both of them...for now at least. Sherlock slept wrapped up in John's arms on John's own bed. Sherlock didn't hint that he wanted to do anything else and John suspected it was because he was afraid Mycroft had hidden cameras which he hadn't yet spotted out. John was glad that no one interrupted them kissing.

The next few days were not so good to say the least. Sherlock was getting harder and harder to deal with and John could only guess that the man was testing his limits. At first the attacks were subtle. Sherlock would comment on how surprised he was at John that he still couldn't properly deduce a person's career by their handshake or whether or not they are currently single by looking at their hat.

Then the jibes became more explicit. At home Sherlock would be in his dark moods, cooping himself in his room _without John_ and outright insulting the doctor if John ever tried talking to him.

John would groan then wait in front of a telly that he wasn't paying attention to for Sherlock to come out. But one night when Sherlock still hadn't left his room and John knew it's been a while since he last ate, an argument broke out.

"You're worse than Mycroft. I can take care of myself, thank you. You're just as nagging as my brother with half the brains."

It stung John terribly and it took all his power to blow it off.

"I'm just trying to help, you idiot! I'm not nagging I'm concerned. And you shouldn't just assume.."

"Assume that your sister is a drunkard? Yes don't look so surprised John it's clear to me from that damn watch on your wrist. The crown of it has been decorated with a single piece of rhinestone. A false gemstone isn't normally worn by a man, so it's clear to me that it use to be hers before she gave it to you as an obligated tradition of Christmas or your birthday or whatever. There is a slight but noticeable stain on the very side of the watch that could only come from ale. The color is certainly too pale for a soda pop and I'm sure that whoever was clumsy enough to splash their watch with it and let it stain was drunk at the time. Shall I go on to explain how I knew that she stained it or how I knew the woman who use to own the watch was your sister? No? Fine. So yes, I hardly assume John. And believe me, you are a nagging little bitch right now."

Pause. It was silent except for Sherlock's soft huffing from yelling. John looked at him pleadingly while Sherlock just gave him a cold, nasty glare. The doctor waited for an apology, an explanation that Sherlock was just angry and he didn't mean it and that he regretted saying it.

Nothing like that came. Sherlock looked just as mean as when he said it with a snarl.

"I have to go," John dashed for the door.

"John," Sherlock's voice was suddenly desperate and John turned to look at him, "Don't leave. Please. Don't make Mycroft right."

The side of John's lip twitched in a fraction of an unhappy smile.

"I just need some air. I'm...really angry and I need some air."

"I'll go with you."

"No. No I need to be away from you for right now. Just now, Sherlock. I'm not leaving you," promised John.

While John was getting his jacket, Sherlock was fidgeting with his hands and shuffling his feet.

When Sherlock called out John's name, it was almost too softly spoken for the other man to hear. The two looked right in each others' eyes.

"Please. Just five minutes okay? Be back after five minutes."

John opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock shook his head.

"No, I mean it. If you're not back in five minutes, then I'll assume that you left me. Please John. Five minutes."

It was spoken with such seriousness that John couldn't bring himself to object. He nodded his head and went out to walk, checking his watch occasionally. When the four minute mark came, John was having second thoughts. Why shouldn't he have as much time as he needed to cool down? Who was Sherlock to try to control him?

But on the other hand, what if Sherlock...what if he becomes heartbroken that John didn't keep his promise? John couldn't risk it. He still remembered vividly what Mycroft told him about Victor. Whether he was ready or not to come back one thing was certain, he had to face Sherlock.

He took in a few deep breaths to calm himself as much as he possibly could within the limited amount of time that he had left.

He walked into his flat a few seconds after the five minute mark. John put up his jacket, not paying any attention. When he turned around, he stopped suddenly and gasped at what he saw.

Mycroft was there with Sherlock. How was he able to just pop out of thin air like that? He was sitting across from Sherlock, who stood up when he saw John. Sherlock looked at his older brother.

"See? Now don't bother me again."

Mycroft stood up as well, looking more please with John since the doctor had started dating Sherlock. He turned to his younger sibling.

"Well fine. Then you have my approval."

"Fantastic," Sherlock muttered sarcastically.

"What the hell's going on here?"

The two Holmes brothers looked at John. Mycroft came over and shook the stunned man's hand.

"A simple test, really. And you passed. Now that I'm sure you won't leave Sherlock after such a heated argument, I'm more than happy to have you as my future in-law."

John did a double-take.

"Your what? Wait! How did Sherlock know that you were watching us?"

"Cameras are easy to spot, John," Sherlock said off-handedly, "Instead of taking them out I used the opportunity to show Mycroft what a git he was being."

It was all so confusing and happening so quickly. A test? Sherlock's behavior was all a test? Mycroft bid the two lovers a very good-night and left. Sherlock shifted his weight awkwardly, waiting for John's reaction.

"So..." John said finally after a very long pause, "He's not going to bother us anymore?"

Sherlock, seeing that he was forgiven, smiled. He walked over and wrapped his arms around John, who returned the embrace.

"Of course he's going to bother us, John. But at least he's not going to object anymore. I..er..don't know how to say this but I'm sorry about that and...I...love you."

John snuck in a kiss.

"Love you too."

* * *

><p>End.<p>

Very experimental ending. Remember. Comments are our friends. (^M^)


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